


Pilot

by tori_cat13



Series: Subject to Change [1]
Category: Fringe (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dumbledore Bashing, Explicit Language, Gen, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Graphic descriptions of death threats, Harry might be a bit not good, Hermione Granger Bashing, I only meant for this to be a one-shot, I swear, Ron Weasley Bashing, but can be read as a one shot, it's not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tori_cat13/pseuds/tori_cat13
Summary: A mental institution is a very unnerving place to be. When Peter tells Olivia to go on ahead, what would happen if one of the patients knew exactly what he was feeling?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love Fringe. I own all the seasons and I started watching it over and I got to the scene where they're on their way to meet Walter and I was like, "You know what? I could make this into a Harry Potter Crossover." So I did. I actually have a whole other version of this but that one seems to be playing the long game so I wrote this one as a one-shot.   
> And then this Harry wouldn't shut up about having his own story and he is decidedly more outspoken than the other Harry. So, what was meant to be a one-shot is now more and I might just post the other version as well since these two Harry's are...sufficiently different.

    The determined blonde woman was walking down the hall, escorted by two guards and the dark man. The eerie shrieks of the patients echoed all around, deeply unsettling the man to an almost soul-deep level. “You know what?” He said, coming to a stop, “Why don’t you go on ahead?”

    The woman hesitated but relented when she saw just how _not okay_ the man was. So she went on. And she met Walter. But the man, the man was taking very controlled breaths, trying so very hard to stop this place from seeping into him, from affecting him.

    “Feels like the very atmosphere of the place is about to creep right into you and make you belong, doesn’t it? Like their insanity is spreading,” A voice from behind him said. The man startled and turned.

        The cell held a black haired young man wearing a strait jacket. His head was bowed and his eyes appeared closed. “What’s your name?” The patient asked.

    “Matthew,” the man replied warily. The man in the cell slowly tipped his head back and to the side. He nodded slowly, “A good biblical name, like Peter.”

    The dark man stiffened and took two steps back as the man in the cell stood up and made his way to stand in front of the bars. He had brilliant green eyes and a British lilt to his voice. He smiled kindly at the man outside his cell. “I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you, Peter Bishop.”

    “How did you know my name?” Peter asked threateningly.

    “You told me it in the lie that was your name. Don’t worry if you can’t understand what I mean with the words I say; it’s a particular habit and I dare say all the drugs they’ve dosed me with haven’t helped my lingering sanity.”

    “Lingering sanity?”

    “It’s not nice to make fun of those in a mental institution, Peter,” Harry gently chided him. “But either way…” he trailed off not seeming to have anything more to say. He just leaned against the bars of his cell and looked at Peter and occasionally down the hall or out the window.

    The patient was weird. But, Peter acknowledged, at least he kept Peter’s mind off the jittery, restless feeling that had been on the verge of smothering Peter before. “You said your name was Harry?”

    “Mmm, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-End-Up-In-a-Mental-Institution.”

    “You seem pretty lucid,” Peter said before asking, “Mind if I ask how you got here?” for lack of a better topic for conversation.

    “Here, at Saint Claire’s or here, at a mental institution at the age of 23?” Harry asked before answering both questions anyway. “I was betrayed. The old Headmaster of my school… had a vested interest in my future, being the last of my very rich and very influential family line. He wanted to control me and the way I thought and what I fought for.

    “My parents were under his thumb, being loyal students at the same institute I later attended; family tradition, you see. He was the Headmaster then as well and the Deputy Headmaster and influential Politian before that, during the 1940’s.

    “This headmaster… he was very good at manipulation. He was very good at lies and he was very, _very_ good at seeming to be what he was not; a benign, slightly dotty old man who couldn’t hurt a fly.

    “In reality, he had a vision of what our world and society should be like, and for his vision he was willing to do _anything_. All for the Greater Good, of course,” Harry said bitterly. Peter was completely hooked on the young man’s every word, on the word-pictures he spun, and the story unravelling before him. “This man had, in his youth, envisioned power. He found another boy and together they spent their days dreaming of a future tailored to _their_ views on what should be. Dreaming of being benevolent kings.

    “Of course, like all dreams, one has to wake up eventually. For the boys, this awakening was rather rude, for you see, the headmaster had a sister, one who was…fragile, let’s say. And the headmaster, being the eldest and with no parents to speak of… well, the younger son felt he should be taking care of his sister instead of gallivanting around with his crush, leaving the middle child to look after the girl and them both to fend for themselves.

    “The middle brother came across the boys one day towards the end of summer, stressed about how he’d have to leave for boarding school soon and his elder brother seemed content to think his siblings were just _dragging down his potential_. A fight ensued, between the brothers and the friend, and in the course of it, the young girl was killed. They never were quite sure who it was in the end that was the cause of her death.

    “The friend fled, in the face of such a mistake. The younger brother never forgave the elder and—rather rightfully—blamed him. This lead to such grief and guilt on the part of the elder brother and so he came to the conclusion that what the boys had been planning—outright war—was the wrong way to go about it. He came to a rather shocking conclusion as he gazed at the body of his fourteen year old sister: children. Children are the future. They have no real inherent knowledge of how the world works, so if he could spread his ideals through the _children_ then, why, he would have a perfect army and then he would have the children’s children. And eventually those children would grow up, still under his ideals and they would lead. And perhaps the more ingenious part of his façade was that, they all viewed him as a grandfather. So even if he never held any real power over the government, it wouldn’t matter because _all those children_ would come to their beloved Mentor for guidance and he would make the choice for them. Thus, with one title, one position most people wouldn’t think very important, he would, in fact, have the power he had sought after and no one would have to die. Simply… ingenious. And utterly devious. And utterly true.

    “There was a problem though, as he was working his way to his goal: the friend… he had become a problem. He had chosen to chase power more directly. He had gathered followers and was making war and the people, oh the people, they had heard of the then-deputy; they had heard of his power and of his being learned and every day, multitudes  of letters all begged the man to fight, to take down this… Dark Lord who threatened the peace of the entire world. You see, this was during World War II and though not many knew, there was a war going on in the shadows. It was _that_ war of which I’m speaking.

    “And every day the letters came and every day the deputy felt a pain in his heart for even with all his evil, the deputy still loved his friend (Though it was never reciprocated). But one day… he heard that this friend had in his possession, a weapon they had both been obsessed with, a set of three. Oh, he would have you believe that he fought and took down his love because of all the pressure, all those people who had begged for his help, would have you believe he did it for the Greater Good. In actuality, he had wanted the weapon. And he got it, locking his love up in the very prison his love had created instead of just killing him, what a cruelty masked with mercy.

    “This act gave him an unexpected boon; the people had been so very terrified and they were so _very thankful_ , that they gave the man a medal of the highest honor, a position of head of the judicial and law system—the court, and a position as… head of an organization similar to the United Nations.” Harry gave an incredulous bark, “With one fell swoop, the betrayal of his love and his own youthful ambitions, he became the most influential political power in the world in that circle and became the de facto ruler of his country, revered by all. He turned down the office of leadership, however, having much more power while giving the appearance of humility, by keeping the post of headmaster of the ‘finest school’ in the country, the one that _all_ those of potential went to.

    “And it was this school the showed him his next problem in the form of a student. The school, you see, is divided into four houses. An aptitude test shows which house you will go into, each based on personality: one for those who value knowledge, one for those who value courage, one for the cunning and ambitious, one for those loyal and hardworking.

     “The headmaster favored the house of courage either because they already worshipped him or because they were so easily molded into his most loyal and ardent supports, and he shunned the house of cunning for they were the ones most likely to topple his reign and see through his act.

    “It was into this house a young orphan named Tom Riddle was sorted into. The two had first met when the then-professor and deputy had been ordered to deliver the young boy’s acceptance letter and take him to shop for school supplies on the scholarship offered to orphans.

    “The two immediately disliked each other. The professor because he heard from the Matron, who hated the young boy, all about the wicked deeds  and how he terrorized the other orphans and did not bother to hear the little boy’s side. How they held him down and beat him regularly, how a boy and girl nearly drowned him on one of the annual trips to the beach, how the leader had his goons hold the boy down as his killed the boy’s only friend—a pet snake—right in front of the boy. He heard none of these things and instead saw the intelligence in the boy’s eyes, the angelic features of the boy’s face, the charm and manners that seemed to drip off the boy’s words, and the falsely haughty straight backed posture that seemed to say he thought himself better than all before him. In short, he saw his love.

    “The boy, having been born in the orphanage and shunned by the children, hated by the adults; he was a child who saw the darkness in humans, was subjected to it day in and day out, and fought tooth and nail to protect himself from it. So he saw in this man before him someone who would, shortly, have almost-absolute power over him and would, most assuredly, misuse it; the same way the matron and the workers and the priest whom they’d sent him to for an exorcism and the teachers had all done because he saw the calculating glint in the man’s eye, the same as all those before, wondering how much use the child could be to him, how much of a danger, the best way to control him.

    “So yes, the boy saw right through the grandfatherly façade straight to the power-hungry core. It didn’t help that the man, however subtly, threatened the boy—in all number of ways. And yet, this man also held in his hand, the means for the boy’s future. This school could help him get _power_. The power to protect himself and others like him, abused and used by the uncaring world, the influence he needed to change the world.

    “It was of no surprise that the boy was sorted into the house of cunning and ambition. That house, however…

    “Most of the school was from old families. They were titled and had money. However, the man didn’t agree with the traditions the old families had and the students from the… hm, civilian population felt discriminated against. It was almost like entering a whole new world, you see, different holidays, different culture, different skill levels, and they wanted _their_ holidays, _their_ culture, the curriculum to match _their_ needs. The deputy, though he belonged to and old house, that house had long since fallen and he was jealous of the children who could coast through life with no need for work, while _he_ had had to work so very hard for all the recognition he had. So he supported the civilians.

    “He used his power to propose laws that took away the old families culture and holidays, changed them to the ones the civilians were used to. He took out the culture classes, the etiquette classes, the arts, shoved the curriculum back by _years,_ took out the classes on law, and hired incompetent teachers and teachers who would sooner cut out their own tongues than speak or hear a bad word against their Professor.

    “But back to the boy. The house of cunning was heavily discriminated against because they, more than the families of the other houses, clung so tightly to their traditions, needless to say, they didn’t appreciate having a ‘mudblood’ in their midst.”

    “Mudblood?” Peter asked incredulously. “Because he was civilian-born they treated him like shit?”

    Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “Presumed. Our Tom Riddle was an orphan. The Riddle name had no meaning to those of that circle. His mother’s name though; that was power, especially in that house, since her line was descended from the founder of it.

    “Three years, the boy searched. Three years of abuse at his housemates’ hands until he finally found the answers. You see, he had a little… genetic quirk, known to belong to only those of the founder’s line; the boy had thought it was through his father’s line instead of his mother but I digress. Three years of being powerless and the deputy could have spared him that. Oh, and so much more.

    “You see, it was the deputy who had known about his heritage and said nothing, letting the abuse he suffered within the school happen and it was the deputy who, feeling the child should ‘get along with those of a lesser station’ sent him back to the orphanage every summer even though the child begged him not to. He was fond of sending children back to their abusers, that one.

    “And eventually, it was the deputy that was responsible for stopping all of the young man’s attempts to change the laws regarding abused children, trying to get them more protections. It was, the deputy had convinced himself, for the Greater Good.

    “He had never seen even an ounce of goodness in the boy; he had only ever seen his love and his love’s evil deeds. He…” Harry sighed. “I could go on and on about the maltreatment Tom Riddle suffered at that man’s hands and how he had completely destroyed any hope or future the boy had on preconceived ideas of the boy being evil but in the end, it was the fact that the man’s power was waning as people forgot why they wanted him there in the first place and so he decided: he needed a sacrificial goat and the boy would be it. The boy, being handsome and charming during school, being the last of his _very_ famous family, gained a lot of supporters.

    “In the end, the boy was easy to drive into insanity, which is exactly what the man wanted—to tear him down and leave him as nothing more than a rabid animal the people would be begging him to put down.

    “The plan worked, for the most part. Tom—what changed his name—raised an army and the headmaster raised one too, from the old families and the loyal students respectively. Tom was far more vicious and cunning than the headmaster gave him credit for though and he was having trouble with this war of his.

    “My parents fought for the headmaster and were killed by Tom himself—a rare honour. I survived the attack and the headmaster, knowing his former student’s insanity so very well, knew he wouldn’t stop until he killed me. However, my mother wounded him greatly, almost fatally, took him near a decade to make a reappearance of any sort. The headmaster spun a fantastical tale, naming me their savior and the people believed him because he was a pillar of their society and was ever so learned.

    “To keep control of me, he went against my parents’ wills and stood aside as my godfather was falsely accused and thrown in jail. He sent me to my civilian mother’s sister’s family, who had hated my mother and father and in turn me. For ten years, I was systematically beaten and starved and my bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs.

    “I was entirely naïve to the plots of the old man, forever to my shame. The man he sent to give me my acceptance letter was _fanatically_ loyal to him and prejudiced against the house of cunning, which had gained an even worse reputation since the war with Tom, who had also gained the title of Dark Lord—this time dubbed it by the headmaster instead of the people.

    “The headmaster had been busy those ten years, preparing for my reentry to that world, making sure to fear-monger and plant biases and propaganda such as the ‘common known fact’ of the headmaster being the only one ‘You-Know-Who’ feared. That’s right; the fear of this man was so deep that an entire decade later and they couldn’t even say the name he had renamed himself. And instead of doing anything against this fear, the headmaster used it to his advantage like it was a two cent whore; very well, and very often.

    “But anyways, he told everyone that I was off being trained and treated like a prince and a whole lot of bullshit to make everyone think he was taking good care of me when that was _most certainly not_ the case. He did however, make himself a guardian of mine by our laws and as such helped himself to all my family fortune and artifacts.

    “Oh, he shaped my thinking from the _very moment_ I reemerged into that society: he was behind my prejudice against the house of cunning, managed to instill a sense of gratitude and hero-worship before I ever saw him, was _very_ careful to make sure I thought I had a small inheritance from my parents but never any inkling that there was more. He even picked my best friends for me, all without me even suspecting it.

    “He chose two best friends for me: a lazy boy who always wanted recognition but never wanted to put any work into it, from an old family that had fallen many generations before, leaving them well-known but destitute, and a civilian girl with a know-it-all attitude. The two of them and his family were die-hard supporters of the headmaster and very helpfully kept me completely ignorant of most everything I needed to know as the heir to an ancient and noble house, making sure I didn’t go making friends with the ‘wrong sort’ or any sort really, they were very persistent in being my _only_ friends.

    “So, every year of my schooling Tom the mad man made an attempt on my life, well, not every year actually. Hm, actually first year was a plot by the headmaster to test my reactions, second year was a plot by one of Tom’s followers that was then used by the headmaster, third year my godfather broke out of prison to kill my parents’ real betrayer, fourth year was the headmaster again with Tom getting in on that action and finally coming back _for real_ , fifth year was the government not wanting to believe Tom was back and attacking me and ruining my reputation and any hope for a future and trying to drag the headmaster down a few pegs—which they only succeeded in the ‘destroying my future’ and torturing me thing oh! And Tommy killed my godfather but actually we could attribute his death to more of the headmaster’s meddling, sixth year Tom decided to fight outright and the headmaster was finally killed—broke my heart at the time but he managed to plan, control, and use his death, giving himself martyr- status for like, eternity, and seventh year Tom took over the corrupt government and decided on a man-hunt for me and the headmaster’s hired hands AKA my best friends who were being paid to be so with _my money_. I finally, like the old man wanted, killed Tommy-boy—the headmaster had been grooming me literally before I was born for it after all, since I was just another sacrificial lamb and his original plan was to have me weaken Tommy and Tommy kill me and the headmaster avenge his most precious student’s death and become the hero of yet another war.

    “And since the whole society was so close to being his vision of what it should be, I don’t think he would have needed to start another war. But anyway, he knew he was dying and so had to make plans for me. I’m apparently _way_ more skilled in survival than he had hoped, since he wished I’d be killed off fighting Tommy. Barring that he left other instructions though, since he knew one day I would be too powerful and would find out what he had done and drag his name to where it should be in the mud, and do what he _should_ have done with his power and _help people_. But no, he was the only one to decide what was for the Greater Good.

    “My ‘best friends’ followed the instructions to the letter. They drugged me, had me marry his little sister, drugged me some more until she got pregnant with—presumably, you never can tell with that slut—my child and therefore heir. Then they spread word that I was, as the people call it, ‘going Dark’ and then they ‘publically’ ‘took me out.’ In actuality, they—surprise, surprise—drugged me, made a deal with the still-corrupt government, scarred me up some, brought me here, and left me to rot. They occasionally still come by to taunt me.”

    “That is…quite a story.” Peter said.

    “And it’s one you won’t be remembering,” a female voice behind him said. A young woman with fluffy brown hair stood a few feet away. She tilted her head before a sadistic smirk curled her lips. “Or… shall we tell him the _real and whole_ story. Yes, I think that will be for the best. The one person you confiding in remembering and _not believing the mental patient’s fanciful tales of magic and wizards_. Oh yes, I think this will be perfect.”

    She stalked forwards with a panther’s grace, vine wand going to Peter head. Peter tried to fight but ended up with a blank stare after a murmured, “ _obliviate_ ”. “You will remember the story told to you by the mental patient, except you will remember all the things he didn’t tell you of the story, such as Dark Lords and magic and witches and wizards and you will remember it and you won’t believe him because he is, after all, a mental patient and thus insane. After all, there is no such thing as magic.”

    There was a moment of silence as Peter processed the new memories. Hermione put on a concerned and pitying look as she turned to Harry, the face of a loving and dear friend who can’t believe one of her loved ones has fallen so far, is so very _not normal_.

    “Oh, Harry,” she sighed. “Telling stories about magic again?” She turned back to Peter, “I’m so sorry; I hope my brother in all but blood hasn’t been too much of a bother. Though I have to say, he rarely ever talks to anyone these days; that he’s talked to you at all is… almost a miracle. If he hadn’t have given into his delusions of magic, I’d have said he’s making progress. He doesn’t speak to Ron, my husband, or Ginny, his wife and Ron’s sister, or myself when we come by; you must be very special to catch his attention, Mister…” she trailed off, fishing.

    “Matthew Knight,” Harry said, petulantly. “You know, one day Hermione, I am going to take a knife and cut you from the base of your neck, to the base of your spine, baring your spinal cord. Then I’m going to very carefully cut the nerves in your spinal cord, leaving you paraplegic. I’m going to shear you hair off, cut open your skull and cut your brain apart bit by bit; you’ll be fully conscious when I do this and all the while, I’m going to remind you again and again, of all that _knowledge_ and _brain-power_ you’ll be losing and eventually, I’ll kill you.

    “For Ron, I’m going to incapacitate him the same way, before slowly and _ever so carefully_ carving out his jealous, covetous eyes. And maybe I’ll… wait no, I know what I’ll do. I’ll shove his eyeballs up his ass, you know, where his head was normally situated for his entire life. Then I’ll carve up his leg muscles. Those ones he was so proud of, that enabled him to play on the team. Then I’ll cook the meat and feed it to him, but I won’t tell him it’s himself he’s eating. Maybe I’ll starve him for a few days before and tell him it’s you; I wonder if that would make him want to eat it more or less than if he knew it was himself.

    “As for sweet, slutty little Ginny, what to do, what to do. She always was ever so fond of her looks and her body, that sport-fit body of hers. Hm, I guess…  Ah, I’ll scar her up, make her think I’m planning on letting her go. Then I’ll carve out her womb and sew her vaginal lips together; it’s no less than she deserves after all those cocks she’s fucked. And then… and then I’ll open her chest up and poke at her heart some. You know, she always had stalked me all through school; always wanting my heart, I figure it’s fair payment—her heart.

    “And then, I’m going to hunt down that little bastard child she raped from me and kill him. Little Albus Dean Potter. It truly was a master stroke, naming that thing after _that man, as well as_ her lover. Almost the cruelest thing you’ve done apart from holding me down and carving magic-suppressant runes into my flesh and bones. But then, you’ve always been a particularly vindictive bitch.”

    At this point Hermione had crocodile tears in her eyes and was shaking as she turned to the windows and offered, “He says these sorts of things every time one of us visits. Well, hateful things anyway, the death threats are new.” She wiped at her eyes and walked up to Harry as he stood at the bars to his cell. Her eyes showed a sadistic gleam and her mouth had a vindictive curl but her voice was sad as she morosely said, “That’s why the doctors have agreed to change your treatments; it seems this one is just making it worse. You’ll never get better like this. And we want you to get better.” Her mouth was twitching as she fought not to laugh at the words she was saying, luckily she was having a better time keeping her pitch right, “We all love you, Harry; why can’t you just believe us.”

    She brought her hand to her mouth as she gave a watery gasp as if she were on the verge of tears instead of a laughing fit. She shook her head, hand still pressed to her mouth, “I’m—I’m sorry; I have to go,” she whimpered.

    The two men watched her go.

    Peter turned to Harry, “You really shouldn’t have said those awful things; she obviously cares about you. It can’t be easy on her.”

    The determined blonde was coming down the hall. “He asked for you.”

    Peter gave her a _look_. “Thanks a lot, sweetheart; I appreciate that.”

    She was about to reply but Peter turned back to Harry, “You should try to get better,” he said softly, reaching out and gently caressing Harry’s cheekbone with his thumb.

    The pair left. Harry’s mouth twitching as his soulmate’s compulsion-induced words echoed in his ears long after the man had left. “After all, there is no such thing as magic.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... I wasn't sure what pairing if any I would do and the devil part of my brain stayed silent towards the very end and was like, "okay so...how about this" and I was like, "I might just be evil" and then it was like, "no, NOW you're evil."  
>  Just a question cause i'm conflicted guys. This hurts.  
>  I am for like, all things slash but... Peter/Olivia is one of my OTPs and my other story, Harry is much sweeter and more like Luna honestly (though at this point I'm not sure if it's the drugs or his abilities),and Peter is probably not his soulmate--hasn't given any indication of it at least--but like... WHICH ONE?  
>  I can deal with Peter/Olivia but Harry is either going to be asexual or paired with like... September or Nick Lane (who could be a cool addition to the team) or Lincoln (which would cut down on his unrequited love angst which can only be a good thing).   
> So heeeeeeeeeellllllpppppp meeeeeeeeee.  
> Or do you all need like, the first chapter to get a feel for it. Gotta warn you, I was writing to write and the muse was most definitely not with me so pretty sure it's subpar.


End file.
